


Software Upgrade

by keelywolfe



Series: Sportashorts [12]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Beginnings, M/M, Pre-Relationship, References to Depression, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Robbie does so hate broken things.





	

* * *

It was a lovely day for September, the leaves only shadowed in autumn colors and most still scattered green and lush. Robbie wasn't one for appreciating nature but no one would be able to resist inhaling a fresh, clean lungful of air as they walked through the park. 

Not that he was staying in the park, despite the quiet and lack of children. Robbie had a heavy bag slung over his shoulder and plans swirling in his mind, a clever plan, perfect, really, and Sportacus would never see it coming, Sportacus who was lying on top of the picnic table and---

Wait.

Robbie stopped, took two steps back, and looked again. 

Sportacus was lying on top of the picnic table. One arm was hanging off and resting limply on the bench seat. From this distance, Robbie couldn't see if his eyes were open but he wasn't moving at all, not so much as drumming his fingers or waggling his feet. It was disturbing, to say the least. 

Not any of his business, though, and Robbie took a step…and stopped, head hanging down. He couldn't do it. He couldn't walk past this concerning sight and not check on him. Pinkie was right, he was a softy. 

With great trepidation and likely regret, Robbie trudged over to the picnic table, stopping a few feet away to take in the scene. Sportacus was sprawled out like he'd fallen from the skies, eyes open and pointed towards the sky. Was he…hurt? He didn't look hurt and the idea of him actually falling out of the sky was a lot less ridiculous when a person lived in an airship. 

"Sportacus?" Robbie asked, warily.

"Yes?" His lips barely moved and Sportacus did not look at him. 

Well, he was alive then and really, that was all Robbie needed to check on. So he wasn't sure why he continued, cautiously, "Everything…okay?"

"Everything is fine," Sportacus said, sounding anything but fine. If Robbie had to choose a word, it would be apathetic. 

Robbie nodded slowly. "Good, good. Nice sunny day out," he tried, "For September."

"Yes."

Disturbing wasn't the word for this. Worrying fit the description better and Robbie carefully set his bag aside and sat on one of the benches, not the one with Sportacus's hand still lying limp and unmoving, fingers curling inward like the legs of a dying bug.

"I noticed it was suitably quiet today, the kids must all be back in school."

One slow blink, lashes falling and rising, "Yes."

"I suppose I should enjoy the peace while I can," Robbie said, taking note of the reaction. "They'll be out by three, I do believe."

"Three," Sportacus parroted. And there was finally a little animation, a faint smile tugging his mouth up. Ah, yes, the first day back at school for the children and, for once, Sportacus was the one at a loss. There were probably only so many things the Elf could do to entertain himself on his little airship and the kids were gone. 

Well, the children would be back soon enough, rowdy and raucous, and certainly their presence would bring Sportacus back to his normal annoyingly cheery self. He'd be up and leaping around again in no time at all.

The problem was, Robbie didn't like broken things. He was an inventor, a fixer, an _improver_ , and leaving Sportacus here like this rankled. It felt like failure and maybe Robbie's schemes didn't always work like he planned but he always finished things. Besides, there was no such thing as failure; there's only version 1.0 and all problems will be fixed in future updates. 

Planning was something Robbie was very, very good at and he quickly came up with the skeleton of a plot. Trapping Sportacus was, after all, a skill he had cultivated for some time. Now he just needed to put his trap into motion. 

"I'm going out to the sand pits near the waterfront," Robbie said, casually. He didn't miss the way Sportacus's eyes shifted, flicking over to him. Robbie reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a slender cardboard tube. "I'm designing a new kind of model rocket and I need to test the fuel I'll be using to see what kind of lift I can achieve." 

He didn't mention that he'd started the project as part of a larger plan to get Sportacus out of town. Probably it was a given, anyway.

Robbie waited a moment, letting that information sink in, before he added, "Would you like to come with me?" A flicker of eyelashes, a spark of interest, and then Robbie slyly added the bait to the trap, "I could use your help, to be honest. I'll need someone to chase down the rockets when they come back down. Even flipping and flopping the way you do, I'm sure you'll be faster than I would."

Sportacus sat up so quickly Robbie flinched, flailing backwards, and he would have fallen off the bench if Sportacus hadn't grabbed his shoulders and steadied him. That put his face right up to Robbie's and it was impossible not to see that smile.

"You need my help?" Sportacus asked, eagerly, and Robbie mentally stomped on the soppy emotion rising up in his belly. This wasn't some friendly overture; it was simply that he couldn't stand seeing Sportacus so broken. When he finally got this overgrown sports freak out of his town, it was going to be on his own terms. 

"Yes," Robbie forced out. He shrugged off the hands still on his shoulders and stood, "If you're going to help, you can start by carrying the rockets." 

He'd barely gotten the words out before Sportacus was flipping off the table to the ground, scooping up the bag. He was going to regret this, Robbie decided with some resignation, tucked the rocket he'd shown Sportacus back into the bag. He started to turn away, back in the direction of the sand pits when he was stilled by Sportacus throwing his arms around him. 

Robbie stiffened, cringing back from the invasion of his personal space. It didn't help; Sportacus had him in a firm embrace, his chin on Robbie's shoulder as he hugged him tightly.

"Thank you." Quiet and sincere, _knowing_ , and Robbie didn't quite relax but he managed to carefully pat Sportacus on the back, hand resting between his shoulder blades. He was incredibly warm and solid against Robbie and he smelled like fresh apples.

"Come on, Sportadork," Robbie said, roughly, "Let's get going."

He pulled away and Sportacus let him, both of them heading off towards the sand pits, one of them walking sedately and the other running circles around him but always returning. 

They spent the afternoon shooting off rockets on the sandy shoals, Robbie sitting on an outcropping of stone, writing notes and calculations while Sportacus chased after the tiny parachutes as they returned from the sky with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever. It was more fun than Robbie would ever admit and the longest he'd ever willingly stayed in Sportacus's presence. He was unsurprisingly enthusiastic and surprisingly funny, and even Robbie couldn't help snorting a laugh when he'd returned with one of the rocket as more a burnt offering than a scientific tool.

"I think you can put this one down as a conclusive failure," Sportacus said dryly, dangling the charred cardboard from his thumb and forefinger, the little parachute trailing behind like a sooty flag. Robbie had laughed before he could stop himself, still chuckling as he wrote 'conclusive failure' next to the rocket's number even though it wasn't a notation he normally used. 

Until the distant sound of the school bell rang and Robbie found himself frowning inwardly, glancing at the small pile of remaining rockets. "I believe that's your cue," Robbie sighed, unaccountably dismayed.

Sportacus frowned back at him, brow furrowing, and he gestured at the remaining rockets. "Don't you have to finish with those ones?"

"Yes, but—" 

"Then let's finish," Sportacus said firmly. 

Almost, Robbie shooed him away. He didn't really need Sportacus's help and hadn't planned on it to begin with. Almost sent him on his way with a curt word and tomorrow he'd calculate his data from the rockets and start on his next great scheme to chase Sportacus out of Lazytown. 

Something in his chest lurched at the idea of sending him off, some measure of his delight teetering on the edge of falling, and Robbie did so hate broken things. 

"Yes, let's finish," Robbie agreed, softly, and watched silently as Sportacus beamed and picked up another rocket, carefully affixing it to the launch pad and attaching the leads, just like Robbie had shown him. 

He stepped back to where Robbie was, behind the line in the sand Robbie had drawn when they'd begun to show a safe distance, and hit the red launch switch. The little cardboard rocket shot skyward in a plume of smoke and Sportacus laughed, watching as it hit its pinnacle before the little parachute carried it back down. 

Robbie didn't watch the rocket; his pen limp in his hand, he watched Sportacus, watched his laughter, watched him run to where the rocket was drifting to collect it, and realized his plan had, like so many of them, fallen off-course and was not at all going in the direction he intended. 

He took a deep breath, let it out, and redrew a few conclusions around the unexpected emotion in his chest, lingering in his throat, drawing to a point around where his eyes were lingering. It was all right, it was fine. 

There was no such thing as failure, just the beginning of version 2.0.

-finis-


End file.
